


Chapter Fifty-Six: Dark Days

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [57]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers Generation Two
Genre: Blasphemy, Drinking & Talking, Gen, Holy Artifacts, Other, Pre-Battle, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4095784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirteen Stels Ago, Iacon: Rallying the troops as per Springer's instruction, Artemis suspects that her ally may be setting her up for a grander experiment, as Roadbuster reveals a deeper suspicion with the Senate. When presented an officer's hammer, supposedly <strike>looted</strike> <i>liberated</i> from a temple in Kaon aeons past, Artemis realises that her will may not be her own in the war to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Fifty-Six: Dark Days

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Song: ["Dark Days"](https://soundcloud.com/peermusicsync/dark-days) by The Phantoms, from _Different Drum_

Warehouse Eleven, Pier Six

Iacon Harbour

Cybertron

Thirteen Stels Ago

 

Through the “Staff Only” door, Roadbuster and Artemis descended a narrow set of stairs into darkness; at the end of the well, Roadbuster shouldered another door, exiting into a large, dimly-lit den reminiscent of the illegal game parlours and speakeasies Artemis had frequented throughout the galaxy arm. A spindly Autobot with a singular optic case for a head that tracked her every move sat with his back against the wall, a bottle of engex whiskey freshly cracked on a low table.

“And there’s my second to-do before I talk to Emirate Xaaron.” She smirked.

“Whirl, this is Art. Springer tapped her to replace him on field ops,” Roadmaster introduced.

Artemis was quick to retort. “I’m not replacing Springer.”

"Why not?" Roadbuster countered. "He's taken over for Magnus; it's his right to find a replacement."

“Why, Captain Stick-Up-The-Tailpipe finally quit on us?” Whirl quipped, adding two more lowball glasses from a cabinet next to the bench.

“He died battling Galvatron at Autobot City,” Artemis beat Roadbuster to the punch, resuming her direct tone.

Whirl betrayed no more emotion than she. “I didn’t think anything could kill his duly-appointed high-and-mightiness. So, how'd it happen?”

She nodded once. “Poor me a fist and I’ll tell you more.”

_Once again, I would like to point out the consequences of this action._

_Noted and ignored, soldier. I’m not facing Xaaron sober._

That and she wanted to witness how Whirl would handle a drink without a discernible mouth.

Roadbuster brought over two chairs from the corner to join Whirl in his corner as the other Wrecker poured the drinks. After Artemis recapped what she had told Roadbuster, another moment of silence was shared, and glasses were drained. Artemis savoured the smooth burn down her throat, but held up a hand to halt another pour.

“Gotta meet with Xaaron sooner rather than later,” she declined. “Much as I would rather get blitzed with new allies, I have a job to do.” Not quite ready to call them friends — she was not the only one inside her own head-space on guard.

“Rumours are true about Rodimus,” Roadmaster filled in the blanks. “Art’s been charged in finding him, and neither Springer nor Elita trusts the Senate enough to grant her unobstructed passage to do so. That's where we come in.”

"Oh, so we get to play Elite Guard to a search and rescue team? Where do I sign up?" Whirl groused.

Roadbuster was about to correct him when Artemis bowed her head and chuckled. “The word we received was that certain senators in key positions would rather that Rodimus stay missing,” she stated, a cool clip to her tone. “Truth is, they fear his charisma, his loyalty to Optimus. They cannot control him. They think it's a blessing that he's missing, and they're ready to write him off as dead. Thing is, we've got evidence that says otherwise. If it goes against the Senate's plan to coerce and control the public, I'm all for it.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening until you said ‘frag the Senate’.” Whirl admitted. “So the ol' Rodder’s missing. How the slot did that happen?”

“Normally, a single missing Autobot is low on the priorities when war’s peeking over the horizon,” Artemis continued, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees; she gazed at the bottle longingly, but resisted the urge for another drink. “But, seeing this is our Prime—”

“Explains why Springer's rallying the Wreckers to be involved with the search and rescue,” Roadbuster added, filling in the gaps. “Sooner rather than later, it’s going to be public, between Rod’s disappearance and Magnus’s death. You don’t have much time before that.”

“Which is why Elita’s pulling damage control,” Artemis pointed out. “The problem now is that I know why Xaaron’s getting involved.”

“Religious nutters have no place on the Council,” Whirl spat. “That’s what we’re talking about, right? I just heard Xaaron and figured — yeah, I’m not paying attention.”

Not certain whether or not Whirl was serious, Artemis glanced back at Roadbuster. “I can’t help but feel he’s going to take this as a rally cry.”

“Or a recruitment drive,” Roadbuster added.

Artemis harrumphed, drumming her fingers against the table. Succumbing to her vice, she slid her glass forward, this time holding up two fingers.

Whirl served with a cackle. “Oh, I think I’m going to like you!” To Roadbuster, he added, “Can we keep her?”

She responded to his quip with a toast of thanks as she continued her discussion with the larger Wrecker. “Quints returning, a press with both this 'Legion' force and Galvatron's rags of an army gearing to take back Cybertron — oh, and you heard about Shockwave’s big broadcast, direct from Polyhex? Seems like we have the easy assignment.”

Roadbuster stood. “Whirl, armoury key. Art, with me.”

“Machine guns are off limits — those are mine!” Whirl flicked the security card carelessly to the larger Autobot as Artemis tossed back the engex, before following suit to a door engulfed by shadows. Unlike the office door to the stairwell, this one was reinforced to survive a fusion blast. Roadbuster removed another card and swiped them simultaneously through card readers on either side of the door; it emitted a series of beeps before hissing open. The lights flickered on automatically, revealing a large cache of weapons and ammo from all across the known galaxy.

“Standard military provisions never get us too far — stocked up on Kaon raids, spoils of war, that sort of thing. Might want to bring your crew over to get outfitted — though I’d keep the ‘Con with your ship; Whirl doesn’t take too kindly." By his tone, neither did Roadbuster. "What’re you packing?”

Artemis unhitched Serendipity from her leg and held it across her palms to Roadbuster.

A whistle escaped from under his faceplate. “Quasar Mark II, Darxtar’s build; I recognise that function switch anywhere. Stock looks custom, though. You lift this off of one of his mercs?”

“I was one of his mercs. How else do you think I was able to get through Polyhex and Kaon without getting shot at?”

“Don’t be touching my machine guns!” Whirl shouted from the other room.

Roadbuster let the topic drop. “How about melee weapons? Any formal martial art training?”

“Don’t listen to him! Melee weapons are useless!” Again, Whirl.

“Whatever I get my hands on.” In truth, she had not thought about her beat sticks since the…incident. “Mixed martial arts — don’t have a favoured style.” Also truth; she had patched so many different styles and forms into her metallikato that it was barely recognisable, but practitioners still raised flags, regardless of how one came across learning the skill.

“Not an military Academy brat, I take it.”

“History major with a PolySci concentration, the original Crystal City. That worked out real well.”

“That doesn’t scream an idealist attempting to change the world.”

“Didn’t work out the way I hoped, but back then, I was young and stupid.”

“And that’s how it begins. Rounds are by calibre on the left, by gauge on the right. I’d highly recommend the EMP shot, if you have shotgun capabilities. Depleted uranium full metal jackets for rifles — keep them in the factory box and use them sparingly, else you’ll eventually puke out your fuel processor. You’ll also want to stash them, because they tend to be on the restricted use list for three-quarters of the galaxy. Now, in here…” he pushed open a gate separating the firearms from the melee weapons, “we have the melee because, face it, there’s times where you’ll be out of ammo and a big ‘Con’s going in to rip out your neural processor. You favour speed or strength?”

That was an easy answer, or should have been; instead, she swallowed it and approached a rack with two-handed polearms, swords, axes and—

“Well.” Roadbuster crossed his arms over his chest as she hefted a warhammer from the rack.

The weight felt — balanced. She gripped the hilt with a spread hold, near the head and further down the staff. Triple-thrust with the head, shuffle forward, swing the butt of the weapon forward, following the momentum and allowing the hilt to slide for a more conventional hold, pulling the descent to keep the head from smashing into the ground.

“You better not be touching my machine guns!”

“No one’s touching your damned machine guns, you one-opticked freak!” Roadbuster shouted before returning his attention to Artemis. “I took femmes to be speed fighters. Normally,” he added. There was something calculated in his tone. “Guess I should show you the heavy hitters, then.”

Artemis chambered the hammer, over her shoulder and choked the hilt. “This doesn’t hit heavy enough?”

“That’s standard issue. It won’t last you. Put it back and let me show you one of those spoils of war I was telling you about.”

She shrugged and returned the weapon to the rack.

_Careful._

_Yeah, I picked it up too. What’s he up to?_

_I’m not completely certain, but be on guard._

_You know me — I haven’t stopped being on guard since I walked in here._

_You haven’t stopped being on guard since you were dumped on our doorstep._

The room Roadbuster revealed — a door well hidden in the wall, was much smaller, more of a safe than an armoury. He opened a locker, then backed away, granting her access to its contents.

Something…familiar…radiated from within. She tried to pinpoint the feeling, the sensation that she did not register as dread, or happiness, or sadness…anticipation, as though preparing a visit from an old friend — that moment where one has to stop and wonder how much had changed since the last meeting.

Within the locker was another hammer, shorter than the standard issue but, judging by the hilt, had expandable capabilities. The head was also smaller, flat on one end and tapering to a blunt point. This was an officer’s weapon, colbalt blue and gold, with inscription around the head writ in Old High Cybertronian.

“Shouldn't this be in the Archives?” she questioned, studying the hammer. “Does the Council know about this? Who was the owner?”

Roadbuster shrugged. “A fallen Magnus? Don’t know; they stopped handing these out before the Functionists rose to power. A real relic; found it in Kaon when when we pressed against Shockwave’s troops ten or so stels back. As to why it's not in the Archive...” he shrugged, an apathetic gesture.

“And you’re just letting me take it,” she arched a brow.

“Consider it a loan.”

She reached in, wrapping her hand around the top guard, and hefted the weapon out of the locker. A thrum from the hammer vibrated through her arm; a welcoming sensation encased her spark. Which only put her more on edge.

_Oh, slag._

“By the way,” Roadbuster coughed, calculated, “you never told me what happened to the Matrix.”

She studied the hammer, looking for any activation key, a button, a switch, but found herself focused on the inscription, racking her brain for a translation. “Rodimus is missing, but left the Matrix behind. According to Perceptor, it happened in a beat; Rod was there, and then he wasn’t. But the Matrix was still in the lab. He called Magnus, Springer, and Grimlock down — “

“Why Grimlock?” Roadbuster demanded.

She did not respond to his question; she was not finished answering his first one. “Magnus agreed to take on the Matrix.” Her optics followed the inscription, unable to ascertain the words. “I don’t know what happened exactly — I was on the parapets with Elita, cover fire. But when I went in to report to Magnus, I found him..."

_...slumped against the wall, chest ripped open..._

"I was stupid; I went after Galvatron. He had infiltrated Metroplex; someone had to stop him. I found him, with the Matrix, and I called for back up. He was distracted by Metroplex’s antibodies, so I took the advantage. And..."

_Springer trusts him. He would not have recommended seeking him out if he didn't._

"...it told me to find Rodimus, that he was still alive.” Her optics dimmed. “I tried to give it to Elita — I could find him on my own, I rationed — but...I’m now I’m stuck as its courier.”

“Oho.” He chortled. “And I take it that, too, is being kept under the radar.”

“I’m telling you this because you told me to trust you. Springer trusts you. As far as the public is concerned, Elita has the Matrix.” She brought her gaze up, sudden, meeting Roadbuster’s now amused optics. “Don’t.”

“Primus has a sense of humour.”

“Some cosmic joke. Yeah, got that.” She returned to studying the weapon in her hands. “I’m troubled by the fact that Emirate Xaaron sent Elita to Earth before the Decepticons’ attack. Now he wants an audience with me. I think his plan went awry.”

“He’s going to try to convince the public these events were ordained,” Roadbuster filled in the blanks. “And you were the wild card who screwed up his vision.”

"Me and Hot Rod both," she grumbled. “He’s taking the opportunity. He has access to the Council; he knows what they know. Take an event, find a corresponding datatrack, and try to shift the situation into his favour.”

“Sounds like you’ve already judged him guilty.”

“Only for having an ulteriour motive. I need to know what it is, and if Elita and Rodimus are in trouble.”

“Rodimus is already in trouble.”

“And I’m not covering ground standing here.” She looked up at him once more. “Thank you, Roadbuster. I’m trusting you to keep this between us.”

“We’re a band of brothers, Art,” he reminded. “We may have reported to Magnus, and will now report to Springer, but we stand as equals on the field. Betray one of us, betray us all.”

He was both reassuring and warning her.

“I know where I stand,” she nodded, sheathing the hammer at mid back before returning to the primary armoury; he followed her at a distance. She helped herself to a box of the EMP shells and a box of armour piercers as she exited the armoury.

Whirl regarded her, likely searching for any sign of machine guns on her person; the whiskey bottle nearly drained. “The Magnus hammer? Slot, Roadbuster must really think you’re going the distance.”

“I have every intention to.”

He held up the bottle. “One of the road?”

“Next time I’m in town,” she countered. “Thanks, though.”

Whirl nodded once, topping off his glass. "Don't get killed until I get a chance to get into a fight with you."

Just before she reached the door, Roadbuster called her name, then tossed her a key card. “You’ll need this: safe house key. We got caches all over the Arm. You find one of us, they can tell you where the closest cache is."

"That is, if they don’t suspect you," Whirl added. "Or not take you seriously. That’s likely, too.”

“Do what Magnus did if they do,” Roadbuster reclaimed his seat at the table, “throw your weight around, bust a couple of heads together.”

Whirl held up a claw. “He also liked quoting the Autobot Codex. He did that first. Usually citing conscription if needed. I think he made slag up half the time.”

“I didn’t even know we had conscription clauses,” Artemis grumbled.

_In theory, yes. If you had paid attention in current events —_

_I was more for prevention using historical and practical data._

_Roadbuster is right; you were an idealist._

_And now I’m just a cynic._

“Slagged if I know; like anyone other than Magnus ever read the Codex.” Whirl tapped at his glass, eyed the now empty bottle, then rummaged through the sideboard for presumably another bottle.

“Hopefully I don’t have to get that far,” Artemis smirked, “Because I might have skimmed just the important parts. Keep in touch, boys — you can reach me through Autobot City; they’ll have my contact.”

“Going through an outpost; smart when you’re paranoid,” Whirl nodded. “Be paranoid, stay alive.”

“That and I trust Blaster and Springer,” Artemis countered.

“That’s saying a lot, giving your position,” Roadbuster chuckled. “You do the same; give us a go if you need to arrange backup.”

Whirl chortled. “Wreckers don’t call for backup—”

“—we call for cleanup!” Roadbuster joined in.

Artemis did not resist a grin. “We’ll keep the Junkions on speed-dial. Cheers, boys. Thanks for the time.”

“That key card will let you out,” Roadbuster saluted. “Catch you on the flip side, Art.”

She returned the gesture, climbing the stairs and, sliding the card through the reader, buzzed herself out of the warehouse.

 

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** Times Like These


End file.
